


Late Night Conversation

by TheTalkingPeanut



Series: Now I'm a Man; Yours [1]
Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Batjokes, Happy, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Swearing, Telephone, Unrequited Love, sleepy, three word prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22962949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTalkingPeanut/pseuds/TheTalkingPeanut
Summary: Based on a three word prompt from the Discord Server Chuckletown: Telephone, Sleepy, HappyA late-night phone call is had in secret.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/Bruce Wayne
Series: Now I'm a Man; Yours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665307
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Late Night Conversation

**Author's Note:**

> Hello to whoever reads this! I don't have a beta and I wrote this in one go (LITERALLY A COUPLE OF HOURS NON-STOP), so please forgive all mistakes and bad plot story...ness. It immediately got out of hand. It was supposed to be short but... apparently I'm incapable of doing that... ugh...
> 
> Inspired by LOTS of artists making it seem like they hang out a lot (and it's very, VERY one-sided) and the three word prompt for the Discord Server Chuckletown (y'all should join! Here's the link: https://discord.gg/V7fT7Y6 ) which were 'Telephone', 'Happy', and 'Sleepy'.
> 
> Hope it's okay :/ I got it in my head that this is a thing they do now... I don't know why...

Bruce’s head _bonked!_ on the window and he yelps, gripping it with both hands as he felt the pain from his brain strike to the spot of contact then flood to every other neighboring cell. It even rushed to his teeth eventually. His self-nurturing was short-lived once the screaming pain cleared up enough for him to register the ringing he heard was not coming solely from his head.

It was the phone beside him alarming him of why he was cramping uncomfortably in the back seat of the limo. Pounding throb or no, Bruce doesn’t hesitate to snatch up the receiver and start a conversation he so longs for.

  
  
“Yeah, h-hello.” Shit, it hurts to speak. His voice grinds a vibration into his brain. He rubs his temple and curses himself out silently for trying to sleep sitting up instead of laying down as he usually does.

There’s a pause before that Voice speaks up. “Hey.”

Bruce’s breath stills. The Voice is always so quiet. Always. Like a feather floating through the air. It makes his insides flutter with butterflies every time. God, he misses hearing it when he goes throughout his days and weeks without it. If only he could find a way to increase the times to hear it than these flash-in-the-pan phone calls in the cars when no one else is around. It makes him angry that it has to be this way. _But not for long_ he reminds himself. _Just one more month, not even. Then they can’t order me back. No one can stop me anymore, not from this._

“How are you?” Bruce remembers to ask, realizing he’s been silent for a while. Then, before the Voice has a chance to answer Bruce cuts in-- “I miss you.”

Bruce is gripping the phone with two hands, white-knuckling it. _Please talk to me, I don’t want to be alone._

Another brief pause then the Voice gives a light chuckle. It’s not cruel. More surprised or startled in sound. “Okay,” the Voice responds.

Bruce shifts in the backseat; picking up his legs to snuggle further into the corner by the car door. He doesn’t know what to think of that answer. Did it mean ‘okay’ as in ‘I’m okay,’ or ‘okay’ as in ‘oh you miss me? That’s cute.’ 

Sometimes gauging the answers could be a rather interesting mind game he enjoyed testing to see how well he could handle himself against them. But this time around his head felt cracked open and he wasn’t in the mood for a complicated challenge. He wanted - no, _needed_ \- something else this time.

“I mean it. I miss you,” Bruce stated in a more firm tone. Something he picked up from his father.

Another pause. “Okay.” This one came out higher pitched. But just as soft.

An alarm bell went off in Bruce’s head. He had begun to get really good at detecting these things. Not great, but compared to others… it was unnerving.

Something was wrong.  
  
  


Fear straightened his back to almost rigid, “What happened? What’s wrong?” The words practically rushed out on top of one another.

A defeated sigh filled Bruce’s ear. “I had a bad dream.”

Bruce shudders at the words. He knows how weighted that sentence is and the sort of damage it can do. Boy, he knows it well. 

“Another one?” he asks.

“Mmhmm.” 

“Do you…” Bruce stops, then starts back up, “Do you wanna tell me it? Or talk about it?” _Please. I swear, I beg. You can trust me. I understand._

“.... No,” the Voice whispers and Bruce feels himself die a little inside. “You’re too young to hear such horrors, kid.”

Bruce slams a fist down on an armrest. _“No_ , I’m _not._ And I’m… so sick and tired of everyone tiptoeing around me like I _am.”_

It came out angrier than he meant it to, but once the crack in the dam had been made, the water rushing out only seemed to make it worse. “It’s always ‘too this’ and ‘too that’, and ‘we understand you’re suffering but didn’t that happen some time ago’ and ‘why are you crying? You have millions! What have you to cry about?!’ I’m not a child anymore! I have rage too! I--it’s--I mean, I want to hit something too, you know? My nightmares are not kid-friendly! They never were! Why is it so hard to express to anyone how much I’d like to hurt someone else? Huh?! Why are only some people punished but not others?! Why--wh--where--why…!”

But he couldn’t finish. Bruce wasn’t even aware he had been rambling, half screaming into the receiver. There was just so much grief in him and besides Alfred - who he didn’t dare tell half the things that plagued through his mind - he had no one, _no one_ to talk to. 

Except…

Bruce let out a sob and did his best to sniffle back tears. None of this helped the ever-increasing migraine thanks to the nasty bump he took. It only succeeded in building more pressure and making his head feel heavier. 

He ended up having to use the back of his pajama sleeve to wipe his eyes and nose clean. God, that all came out so fast he was mortified. And just when he was trying to defend himself in saying he wasn’t a child anymore…

A song was playing. It was melodic, gentle and sweet. It wasn’t coming from a radio. It wasn’t coming from somewhere outside the limo. It was coming from the speaker part of the phone to his ear. It was the Voice, and it was barely audible.

It struck a pang straight to Bruce’s heart once he was calm enough to catch some of the lyrics. It was a mournful song. A beautiful song. A song of loving promise for the hereafter. He recognized it from somewhere he’d heard before, but he didn’t bother wasting time trying to remember where that was. He simply listened, letting the words sink themselves into his bloodstream and make a hidden promise to his soul.

Nothing about it scared him. He only listened, entranced. His blinking had slowed along with his breathing and he melted into the corner further molding to it.

When it stopped, Bruce finally spoke up. “That was beautiful.”

  
  
“That was _The Sweet By and By,”_ the Voice answered with another chuckle.

“Why’d you sing it?”

“To calm you down.”

The answer made Bruce’s face flush. “Oh. Sorry.”

A genuine laugh bubbled through the phone. He felt his ears heat up. “But I also love singing, so it may have just been me throwing a random tune out there. Who can say?”

Bruce wanted to change the subject and move as far away from any discussion about his ‘outburst’ just now. What he wanted to talk about was the bad dream the other had, but he knew that was as sure as pulling teeth from a parrot.

At least, not yet.

“Say, I have a surprise for you,” says Bruce, tangling his fingers in the phone cord.

“Oh?” He knew that would pique the other’s interest. And based on the elevation of the voice, Bruce was unmistakably right.

“Yeah. Guess.”

“Ohh, that’s a dangerous word to use on me,” the Voice says in a sing-songy way.

“I know. That’s why I said it. So guess.”

“Hmm… you bought me an elephant.”

“What? No, try again,” Bruce laughs. God, he really misses this.

“Aw, pity. Would have loved an elephant. Had a name picked out and everything.”

“It’s not an elepha--wait. You already had a name for it?”

“Of course!”  
  


“Well… what is the name?”

“What does it matter? You didn’t get me the elephant so I’m not telling you the name.”

_Jesus Christ_ Bruce rubs his tired face. He can’t stop the big toothy smile that’s stretching from ear-to-ear because of something so non-sequitur. 

“Alright, fine. No elephant, no name. Guess again.”

An exaggerated sigh blasts his ear. “Is it… prunes?”

“What the fu--why would I get you prunes?”

“To keep me regular.”

_“You_ are hardly regular.”

The voice gasps suddenly. “Did… did my ears deceive me? Or did you just make a joke?”

“Good question. Maybe you should have your ears checked too while you’re in there.”

A hearty cackle erupts to the point Bruce has to pull the phone away from his ear. As it quiets and he brings it back, he hears, “I have! Wanna know what happened?”

“Bruce feels a barrage of giggles begin to boil to the surface, “What?”

“The light they shined in went through and out the other ear! Then we made a puppet show!”

Goddammit. That shouldn’t be funny. There’s nothing even remotely funny about what was said considering who he’s talking to. The implication, everything. Most likely there’s hidden meaning and messages in there, but hell if Bruce was just too dead tired to care or want or need to worry about that right now.

So, he laughed. A kind of drunk laugh that’s really ugly to hear. He didn’t care. It was almost two in the morning anyway. Or did the digital clock say three? Shit, he really was tired.

As Bruce caught his breath, it hit him that he still hadn’t told the other the surprise yet. And he knew soon they would have to both get off the phone and end this little getaway. 

_Alright. No more guessing, just say it._ “Wrong again, Egghead. I’m just gonna tell you.”

“Wait! I haven’t finished guessing yet.”

“Well, Newsflash but you really suck at it.”

“Geeze, everyone’s a critic.”

“Whatever, Miss Hepburn. Now do you want to hear the surprise or not?”

“Oh, _fine.”_

“Okay. Here goes.” Bruce takes a deep breath, holds it, savors it, then tells what he considers is some of the greatest news he could ever share with someone. “I’m going to see you next month.”

A heavy, pregnant pause thickens the air.

Bruce feels his mind freeze. He’s become acutely aware of the temperature in the car. It had been dropping little by little but nothing to be of concern for. Only now, for some reason he doesn’t understand, the sudden chill that streaks up his spine - when mixed with the air - gives him goosebumps.

This response, or really lack of one, was not what he was expecting. He thought at best acceptance and at worst a meltdown. Be it a hyena-like fit or a furniture-smashing one. But he had convinced himself that it wouldn’t happen. That he’d made a connection with someone with feelings returned, and the very thought that he was going to be rushing in soon like, like--

_Like a knight in shining armor…_

Just to finally--

_Break through the castle gates and past its treacherous fortress…_

And walk in and--

_Past the guards and its prison walls…_

Only to be able to--

_To save the princess from the evil that confines her…_

And everything will be better for it.

But, there was nothing. At least, not right away. Eventually, he did get an answer--but only after he coaxed it out a tiny bit.

“H-hello? Arthur? You still there--”

“Why?”

That floored him. His mouth hung open and Bruce felt dazed. “‘Why’? You’re asking me ‘why’?”

“Why do you want to see me?” Arthur interrupted. He wasn’t upset. But he didn’t sound happy about it, either.

“Because,” _Because I love you. I’ve always loved you. Can’t you see that? Can’t you feel it, hear it? In my actions, from my very being? Arthur…_ “Because, why not? Why can’t I?”

“Well,” he heard the other clear his voice, “for one thing; you’re just a kid. And not a bad kid, either. And unless you’re as fucked-up as I am you don’t belong here.”

“Stop. Just stop it.” There came that quick rage again pulsing into his brain. “Y-you don’t know a thing about what’s going on with me out here you’ve been in there for so long already. I’m not that little kid you remember. I’ve grown. I’m an adult now.”

  
  
Quiet chuckling, again. “Sure you are, kid.”

“I am. And stop calling me that. When you see me next month you’ll know just how much of a man I am now. And then we’ll see who’s laughing.”

“How old are you, Mr. Man?”

“I’m eighteen. Or, I will be next month.” Bruce cursed himself as he mumbled the last part. Shit, that all made him sound so weak.

More laughter. Bruce was growing ever more agitated. “Little Bruce Wayne, all grown up. And what does he want to do? Come and see the crazed clown in the nuthouse. What a circus that will be!”

He didn’t care. Bruce knew what he felt, knew it was real, and nothing else mattered. He also had grown - thanks to these annual phone calls - to learn that what Arthur was trying to pull off as cruel mirth was in fact; an automatic response for whenever he got too emotional or frightened of something. It was a safety net. His safety net. To catch him when he falls. Everyone only blamed the laugh but Bruce knew better. He knew this man better. He couldn’t explain how or why, but something about him just clicked after their first meeting.

_It was the goddamn eyes._

“Laugh all you want, I don’t care. I’m still coming. Do you hear? Once I reach eighteen no one can stop me from being a legal adult. That means Arkham, that means Alfred, and that means _you.”_

The laughing petered out and the other line went silent once more. Bruce knew he hit something but was too exhausted to figure it out. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? Had he started something? Opened a Pandora’s box, perhaps? Hell, he didn’t know. And quite frankly he didn’t care until they spoke again. Their time was practically up and Bruce maybe had time for one more question. And any excuse to stay on the line a bit longer he’d take it.

So he inquired to Arthur one more time. “Before I go, I just wanna ask; which office did you break into this time?”

A deep intake of breath first. “Dr. Walker,” his voice returned to its usual soft level.

Bruce frowned, “I don’t know that name.”

  
  
“They’re new,” he answered without acknowledging the fact that Bruce just admitted to somehow knowing the names of all the doctors at the hospital for no reason.

“How long have they worked there?”

  
  
“A couple of weeks. Thought I’d let them settle in first and, you know, study their routine before I test-drove their office space.” 

“You don’t think they--”

  
  
“Naw, too new yet. And there isn’t much in here so nothing to play with. But I gotta admit, they got nice digs.”

“Okay.”

  
  
“They have an intern as well.”

That made Bruce blink a few times. “What? The new guy has an intern?”

  
  
“I never said it was a guy.”

  
  
“Fine. The new doctor has an intern?”

“It is a guy by the way, and yeah they do. Weird huh?”

That was strange. Nobody else who first came to the hospital ever started with an intern. Very interesting. “Do you know their name?”  
  
  
  
“I already told you, Dr. Walker,” Arthur scoffs.

  
  
“No no, the intern you Egghead.”

“Ohh. Them. Yeah, I know it.”

“..... Well?”

  
  
“Chester.”

“The intern’s name is Chester?”

  
  
“No. That’s what I would have named the elephant if you bought me one.”

“Arthur…”

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Arthur chuckles lightly into the receiver which tickles Bruce’s ear and makes his stomach do wonderful flips which he decides not to share.

“Okay so, what’s the intern’s name then?”

“I gotta go now.”  
  


  
Wait, just--”

  
  
“Crane.”

“What?”

“Crane. The intern's name is Crane. I forgot his first name. Unless that is his first name. He’s an odd duck.”

It came out so carefree Bruce wondered if Arthur was telling him the truth. He decided that whatever it was, it was a decision for another conversation to answer.

“Okay. Oh wait, Arthur?”

“Yeah?”  
  
“I love you.” And Bruce slams the phone down. He didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t want to hear Arthur’s response. Not yet. Not while he himself may forget that he even uttered the dreaded ‘three words’ at all.

He was beat. It was going to take some great feet of strength to not only climb back through the manor and into bed but to do so without tripping over anything on the way. Oh well. If he gets caught he’ll just tell Alfred that he must’ve slept-walked again. That usually works.

As he opened the door to the limo and did his best to step out without tumbling on his ass, he thought once more of Arthur and something that had been nagging at him that he was officially going to come to terms with once he became an ‘adult’.

_Arthur deserves a hero. If everything else fails, I’m at least determined to prove I can do that._  
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So there it is. Arthur treats him more like a kid brother and Bruce.... Well...
> 
> He obviously doesn't feel the same way. If you liked it, lemme know? Comments help a lot <3 
> 
> Thank you :)


End file.
